


Owned

by kscribbles



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Established Relationship, M/M, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:24:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Jerry/Peter - Established relationship, canon or not :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Owned

**Author's Note:**

> For a challenge, I tried to make this as canon as possible. It might work with a few handwaves, some squinting, and timey-wimey tweaks. Written for the lj community FrightNight2011's kinkmeme: http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html

Peter's finger wasn't trembling nervously as he reached for the bell. He swore it wasn't. It was just... cold. In late Spring. In Vegas. He wasn't here, on a dark doorstep, in suburbia because he wanted to be. He had a message to deliver.

The door opened almost immediately. And there _he_ was.

“ _Jerry_ ,” Peter said, trying out the unfamiliar name on the very familiar vampire, confident that his voice was steady.

“What?” Jerry said with a wide smile. He didn’t look at all surprised to Peter. “You don't like it?”

“It's a terrible vampire name,” Peter said.

“I'm blending in.”

“Really?” he said dryly, “Because I hear you're killing whole neighborhoods.”

“Not killing. At least not everyone. You want to come in?”

“No.” That wouldn’t be a good idea. It never was.

“Do it anyway.”

“Fine,” Peter grumbled, and pushed past the vampire in the doorway.

“That's my Peter.”

It was true. Had always been true. That didn't mean Peter had to like it.

He headed directly to the fridge like he owned the place and grabbed the beer he knew would be chilling inside. He hated beer, but needed a drink, and needed something to do with these hands that, despite his better judgment, longed to reach out to a vampire.

“Why are you here, Jerry?” The name still felt strange, but he preferred it to the old one; it offered a disconnect from their shared past.

“You asked me to come. You don't remember?”

A memory surged up from the depths of Peter's mind. A desperately drunken night. Wanting to feel anything but numb, he'd rung up his... tormenter? friend? lover? this man, this _vampire_ he'd moved across the world to get away from, and begged him to come.

Fuck. Was it _his_ fault these suburbanites were dying?

“Thought I'd dreamed that,” Peter said, taking a long pull from the bottle.

“Nope,” Jerry said, approaching, all nonchalance and maddening, sexy swagger.

“I need to give up drinking.”

Jerry stopped scant inches away, plucked the beer from Peter's hand, took a swallow himself, and set it on the counter. “Don't. I like the way it makes you taste.”

Jerry then set his hands on the counter as well, on either side of Peter, trapping him in.

Boldly, Peter met the vampire's gaze.

And then Jerry leaned in close as if for a kiss, but he changed course, nose brushing against Peter's neck before whispering hotly against his ear, “Why are _you_ here, Peter?”

Peter suppressed a shudder, a frisson of arousal. It'd be so easy to just fall into old patterns, that strange mix that was their 'relationship', fucking and blood and a fucked up sort of tenderness that made Peter feel small, yet _owned_ —special. Mustering his courage, he placed his palm against Jerry's chest and pushed. The vampire, thankfully, let himself be moved.

“Not for that,” Peter said when there was breathing space between them.

“Sure,” Jerry said, shrugging. “Then what?” He crossed his arms, waiting.

Peter reached for the beer again. “Charley Brewster.”

The casual observer wouldn't have registered a change in Jerry's expression, but Peter saw it. That flicker of surprise. Jerry hadn't been expecting that. He knew of nothing that should connect Charley and Peter, after all.

“Pesky neighbor kid? What about him?”

“You got his friend,” Peter said, not really a question. Jerry's presence in Vegas pretty much confirmed that Charley hadn't been lying.

Jerry nodded. “Ed. Or,” he laughed, “ _Evil_. He's cute. Was tasty too. He's downstairs taking a little dirt nap. You care?”

Peter realized he did. But not about _that_ kid, not really. He only gave a shit about Ed, about Ed's death, because it hurt Charley. A lying, melodramatic teenager he'd just met. But he couldn't get that desperation, that panic, those wet, wide eyes out of his mind.

Peter shook his head. It was too late for Charley's friend, but maybe, just maybe he could help give Charley a fighting chance. “Leave. Charley. Alone.”

Jerry chortled, disbelieving, because really, who was Peter to be giving a vampire orders. “What?”

Peter held his ground. “Don't kill him. Don't turn him. Stay away from his family.”

Now Jerry seemed intrigued. “Why?”

“Because I'm asking you to.”

Jerry laughed again. “That’s not really a reason, you know. This may have escaped your notice, Peter, because I'm always so nice to you, but...” and here he moved closer again, “ _I'm a vampire_.”

“I am aware of that,” Peter said, as calmly as you please, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. He put the beer down himself this time and reached for Jerry's thick biceps. Whether he wanted to push him away again or pull him closer, Peter wasn't sure.

“I think you might need reminding.”

And that was all the warning Peter had before Jerry sank fangs into his neck. Peter gasped, though he wasn't exactly surprised. It'd been what, five whole minutes since he'd arrived? Why had he thought this would go any other way? 

“You suck,” Peter spluttered as he felt his blood being drawn from him, “...at foreplay.”

But even as he spoke, the sharp pain soon gave way to that tingling sort of inexplicable pleasure of a vampire bite done with finesse.

Jerry pulled away after only a moment, as he'd always did, never taking enough to do much harm. And even with his eyes completely black and his mouth red with blood, he managed to look cheerful. He gave a short laugh. “Peter, this IS foreplay.”

Peter sighed as Jerry reached for the buttons on Peter's black shirt. Jerry's claws were out and Peter watched, spellbound, as they completely retracted by the time Jerry was through with the last button. The vampire's hands were fully human-looking, and almost warm, as they caressed Peter's chest, pushing the shirt from him.

With a sort of helpless noise he couldn’t hold back, Peter pushed the nearly empty beer into Jerry's hand. Jerry took the hint, draining the bottle and swallowing, washing the blood in his mouth away, before tossing it over his shoulder and kissing Peter hard.

Peter opened his mouth willingly, easing into this rough snog like someone would into an old comfy blanket. One with claws and fangs.

It was wrong, Peter knew it was wrong. But just like every time, he gave himself over to this vampire. He couldn't help it. He _missed_ him, missed this.

A hand cupped him through his jeans where he was quickly growing painfully hard and Peter broke the kiss with a groan.

“Thought you didn't come here for this,” Jerry said snidely.

“Yeah, well I'm here now, so might as well. You fucking complaining?”

“Always so difficult, Peter,” Jerry chided.

“No,” he disagreed. “This part is simple.” Peter reached forward and whipped Jerry's shirt off, not sparing much time to ogle the perfect chest that seemed carved from marble or to be annoyed by Jerry's amusement. He undid the vampire's trousers as well before undoing and pushing off his own and turning around to brace himself on the counter.

“Now who's in a hurry?”

Peter was, he realized. Desire clouded his mind. It always did when around _him_. The sooner they fucked, the sooner he could reiterate the point he'd come here to make, and the sooner he could leave.

“Please,” he said. Peter knew it was Jerry's favorite thing to hear from him.

He heard the rustle of clothing, the thud of boots, and then Jerry’s whole, nude body was pressed up against his back. Peter did shudder then.

“I have a bed, you know.”

Peter shook his head, not daring to turn around, not wanting to see himself in a vampire’s eyes. Again. “Here,” he demanded. “Now.”

“Peter…” Jerry said his name on a sigh, and if possible, Peter’s cock got even harder.

There was some more rustling, a drawer snapped open and shut, a few more breathless moments of anticipation, and then there Jerry was, pushing his slicked cock slowly inside Peter.

Peter couldn’t stop his breath from hitching, his body from tensing.

“Been a while?” Jerry asked when he was in deep.

It’d been years, which Jerry probably knew. Peter grit his teeth, waited for the discomfort to pass. He didn’t really want Jerry to be gentle with him, but he’d never say so. When Jerry didn’t move, and Peter felt he could speak, he said, “No one, not like this, since… you.”

“Aww, you know how to make a vampire feel special, Peter.”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“Someone’s very demanding tonight.” Jerry swatted Peter on the arse and pulled back, achingly slowly.

“Please,” Peter begged again, whimpering.

“Better.”

Jerry pushed back in, a little faster. Out and back faster still, and soon was setting a rhythm that had Peter sighing with relief.

“Tell the truth, Peter,” Jerry said, and Peter was annoyed at how unaffected his voice sounded, like he was strolling in the park, not fucking hard against a kitchen counter. “ _This_ is why you came here. You missed me. You don’t give a fuck about anyone else.” 

Peter didn’t answer, _couldn’t_ answer. He didn’t even know what the truth was.

“The rest are cannon fodder. Candy,” Jerry went on. And then a little strain finally crept into the vampire’s voice. “Me and you,” Jerry grunted. “We’re the only ones that matter.”

Jerry gripped Peter’s hips tightly and thrust wildly as he got close to coming. Peter was close himself, without so much as a grope. Just the push and pull, the slide of Jerry’s cock inside him was almost enough.

“No—no more blood,” Peter gasped out, knowing Jerry liked to bite sometimes when he came.

“You’re… no… fun,” Jerry groaned in time with his final thrusts. He did bite then, the join of Peter’s neck and shoulder, but it was blunt, human teeth, and didn’t break the skin.

* * *

Peter lay naked and sated on a vampire’s couch. He hated that he felt comfortable here, in the arms of a monster.

“I want this,” Jerry said, drawing a clawed index finger over the skin above Peter’s heart.

“You have it,” Peter answered bitterly.

“You know what I mean,” Jerry answered. The vampire wasn’t talking about Peter’s twisted sense of devotion. Jerry meant his blood. All of it. He meant turning him. “You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“Why don’t you just take it? It’s not like you give anyone else a choice.” Peter never really understood why he was special to this vampire. Why again and again, they could talk and drink and fuck, and Peter was allowed to walk away afterward, nothing lost but a little blood and more of his pride.

“Because you’d like that. You _want_ me to force you. So you can hate me forever and be absolved of your guilt.”

“I already hate you forever. And I’m never going to choose to become a vampire.”

“No? Well you might change your mind soon. And if not, well, maybe I’ll just set my minions on you. They don’t have my self-control. And they’re getting _really_ hungry down below.”

Peter shuddered for a whole different reason this time. He quickly changed the subject.

“Charley. Will you leave him alone?”

“No,” Jerry answered.

Peter shut his eyes and sucked in a breath, preparing one more time, to beg. “Do me this favor. I don't ask you for much.”

Jerry laughed. “You asked me to come across the ocean. You know that's not something vampires take lightly.”

No, and that’s why his old ‘family’ hadn’t come with him. And why he was setting up a new one. Another thing to eat at Peter’s soul.

“What does he matter to you anyway?” Jerry asked. “Charley?”

“He doesn't,” Peter lied, hoping to appeal to the vampire’s vanity. “You do.”

“That's sweet, but you're lying.”

Fuck. “I'm serious,” Peter insisted. “Watch out for that kid.”

“He’s a fly, Peter, a gnat. But he took my toy stripper away, so I’ll take his toys too. I don’t know why you give a shit, but you’re not going to save him.”

What else could Peter do? He’d tried. And what had he really expected? Because this creature showed him affection, some parody of love, it meant Peter could change him, make this vampire not a monster? Not bloody likely.

He had to get out of here, and maybe out of Vegas before Jerry changed his mind about anything _else_.

And Peter had a bad feeling, this time. He didn’t know what, but something big was going to happen and it would change this game of theirs forever.

“Yeah well,” Peter said, getting up and beginning to search for his clothes. “Just don't underestimate Charley Brewster.”

 

FIN


End file.
